


Narudar

by therehavebeenworsenames



Series: the family way [1]
Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Adopts Boba (As A Brother), Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Child Abuse, Enemies to Friends, Families of Choice, Good Parent Jango Fett, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jango Misunderstanding Jedi Culture, Jedi Culture, Kidnapping, M/M, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Slavery, Slow Burn, Survivor Guilt, child endangerment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therehavebeenworsenames/pseuds/therehavebeenworsenames
Summary: Obi-Wan is mourning his Master while trying to be one, Anakin is in a new confusing world, Jango is trying to be more for his son, and a criminal syndicate signs its own death warrant.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Anakin Skywalker, Boba Fett & Jango Fett, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Past Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze - Relationship, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: the family way [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649824
Comments: 54
Kudos: 455





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess I'm doing this now? I was reading _Jate'kara_ by pallorsomnium and they inspired me to finally write one I had outlined for a bit. 
> 
> Well, to be more exact this is the first one of _three_ Jango/Obi fics in this series. It also combines a few of my favorite other ideas such as the nomadic masters, dealing with Anakin's culture shock, Padawan Anakin, and human disaster Obi-Wan being charged with raising a kid. 
> 
> Turns out bby!Anakin is fun to write, so he kind of stole the opening, but he seemed to do pretty good setting us up. Enjoy!

Anakin woke up on a ship. He could feel the vibration of it through the hard surface he was laid on. He could taste the slight staleness that came with recycled air. He felt the coldness that only existed in space inside him before anything else.

For a moment he didn't move or try to take in more than the immediate. He was slow and groggy, the entire world separated from him by a thin layer of film like a fresh coating on a droid. His mind felt wrung out and his head throbbed behind his ears. His mouth was stale and dried out in a way that felt familiar. Not dehydration. Anakin knew dehydration and its effects as well as any Tatooine native. 

_Medicine_, he realized around the fog in his mind. It was like the time he'd been given medicine to help him sleep by Healer Che. 

Anakin pushed himself up. Or tried to, his body didn't want to do what he told it and he could only leverage himself up a few inches before his arms gave out and he fell back against the surface he was laying on. It made the metal around his wrists move with the motion, the sharp edge digging into his wrist and making him realize its existence with a swift rush of horror that made him want to vomit and his head spin.

Anakin was wearing _manacles_.

His mind, slowly wakening and unfocused, shattered in a million different directions and pulled between two of the strongest emotions slamming into his body. The first a horrible sickening fear like oil spreading all through him and clinging to every corner of his mind. Then a rage, a sort of dark anger like a krayt roaring awake in his heart, made his entire body shake and almost burned the fear and his mind to a sharp focus.

Every slave knew what manacles meant and any freed or runaway slave knew the feeling of being caught once more.

Anakin wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run as far and fast as possible. It was his nightmares made reality. The ones that had lingered when he first arrived at the Temple, a part of him not believing it was real.

But it was real. He wasn't a slave. He'd never be a slave again. He was a Padawan and he was going to be a _Jedi_.

He clung to thought, dragging himself together. Anakin couldn't meditate like Obi-Wan did when he became emotional during missions. Anakin still had trouble sometimes letting himself be and facing his emotions like his Master gently prodded him to. But if he could focus on a single thought or a single goal it brought a similar crystal clarity to his mind that meditation did.

_I will never be a slave again. I am a Jedi_, Anakin repeated, focusing and forcing himself to breath through the storm inside him._ I will never be a slave again. I am a Jedi._

The anger edged by fear didn't fade away, but it settled into the background.

He was fully awake now and the focus calmed him enough to look around. The world still felt fuzzy, distant, even though he could hear and see just fine. The thin veil refused to completely lift. Anakin tried his best to examine the room despite how off center he felt. He cataloged everything, because anything could be useful like his teacher, and mother before him had taught.

The room itself was small, barely enough for the cot, that was what he'd been laid on he found as he finally managed to sit up, to stretch out. He could see outlines that showed where the room had been gutted of any loose items. There was only one door. Beside it, where the access panel should be was a smooth bit of metal of a slightly different color than the rest of the wall marking it as new. 

It was a prison cell that could only open from the outside and at best the size of a large closet.

Anakin closed his eyes and breathed through the fog reaching out to the Force, hoping to get an idea of what laid beyond the room. He only just brushed against it before his connection _snapped_. Anakin gasped, choking and feeling the shock of the absence like a punch to the gut. A sharp stabbing pained echoed through the back of his mind and he shivered stomach rolling.

The fogginess and sense of something missing was the _Force_. Anakin knew it was there, could sense it, but he _couldn’t touch it. _His breath came in quick small jolts and his hands shook.

His wrists _burned_.

Anakin forced himself to look at the manacles, even if the sight turned his already upset stomach. They were a dark gray nearly black metal, circling his wrists seamlessly but with sharp edges that irritated his skin. They looked _old_ the metal worn, but distressingly solid. He raised one of his wrists for a closer look and didn’t find anything resembling a transceiver or even something as old fashioned as a key hole. They were a little too large shifting back and forth on his wrist. Not large enough to slip his hand through though he noted glumly.

The burning was fading from his wrists and he shifted one down to get a better look and saw his skin was red and irritated. It had to be the manacles blocking his use of the Force and muffling it. Anakin took a deep breath pushing away the anger that had come back with the pain and fear. There had to be a mechanism inside the manacles to remove them. He steeled himself, knowing what to expect know and reached into the Force this time focusing on the manacles, trying to press inside them and find the release.

He expected, at worse, to feel the snap again.

Anakin did not expect the sharp _pull_ from the manacles instead.

He frantically tried to drag himself back from the cold that was _burning_ up through his wrists into the rest of his body and the hungry emptiness that came from them. Fear shot through him followed quickly by rage and Anakin screamed.

The burning stopped suddenly leaving Anakin shaking and his wrists a bright awful red and frozen inside. These weren’t manacles for a slave, at least not normal ones. These were Dark.

They felt similar to how Maul had on Naboo. Anakin shivered and pushed away the thought of the Sith Lord that had haunted his nightmares along with the bone deep cold and darkness he’d felt of in the Force. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had felt bright and warm to Anakin when they’d first met, shining in a way that no one but his mother had before. Maul though had felt even worse than a Hutt, colder than the desert at night or even space and starving like he would devour them all.

Did that mean whoever had him was like Maul? A Sith? Anakin swallowed hard and reached to his pockets. They were empty, even the small tools he kept hidden in the lining of his boots were gone. He felt a small pang at the loss. Obi-Wan had presented them to him, awkward but warm, for his first birthday at the Temple when he’d been sad and missing his mother so sharply it felt like he’d lost part of himself.

His lightsaber, or the parts for it anyway, were gone. They must have taken it when they grabbed him. Anakin’s anger hissed, the dragon in his chest furious at the loss of the crystal he’d just received. The parts to _finally_ make his lightsaber. Anakin took a heavy breath and tried to think. Maybe the memory would have some clue about who had taken and why.

-

It was a good day. Anakin hadn’t stopped grinning since he’d made his way out of the cave and saw Obi-Wan waiting for him, beaming proudly. The man had reached over and laid an arm on Anakin’s shoulder. Anakin had leaned into the touch which had turned into a rare hug as Obi-Wan congratulated him. Obi-Wan wasn’t cold, but sometimes it felt like he had a wall around him and Anakin loved when his teacher--he tried hard to not think the word _father _though it was getting harder--lowered it enough to actually display the warm glow of affection Anakin could feel through their bond. Master Yoda, who’d been observing had smiled at him and Anakin had allowed the triumph to carry him through the rest of the day.

Professor Huyang had only made the entire day _better_. He was amazing and Anakin had said as much, too the old droid’s surprise, and they’d both gotten caught up in Anakin’s curiosity about the droid until Obi-Wan _laughed_ and gently reminded them they were here for Anakin’s lightsaber. Anakin had smiled sheepishly, but Obi-Wan’s voice had lacked his usual gentle admonishment and he knew he wasn’t actually being scolded. It had taken two more interruptions by Obi-Wan and a promise to be allowed to ask the Professor all the questions he wanted _afterwards_ for them to focus on actually getting the parts.

Anakin was so happy about the prospect and running on the sheer joy and pride radiating off his teacher--_not father_\--that he couldn’t even find himself upset that he just couldn’t seem to get his lightsaber to come together correctly. He tried to focus, clear his mind, like the Professor and Obi-Wan directed but he was just feeling _too much_. He was too excited, the emotions humming through him. Usually when he was like this, depending on how much he was feeling, he’d use a practice lightsaber until he was exhausted or reconstruct a droid or, if it was bad enough he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin, he’d sneak out of the temple to go junking or racing.

When the Professor Huyang announced they’d be stopping at a port to refuel, Obi-Wan had taken one look at Anakin, who was practical bouncing in place, and invited him to take a break in the port with him. Smiling, Anakin had thrown his arms around his teacher in a hug. Obi-Wan had went stiff, but slowly relaxed and returned it.

Now, here he was in a port with his teacher who was smiling at him all softness and humming contentedly as they walked through the crowd. It was a nice difference. Obi-Wan was always edged with a heavy sort of sadness even when it was a good day. But he’d smiled a lot today and laughed. Anakin had his lightsaber parts tucked into the satchel on his belt. He’d been running through the design as he walked and wanted to keep it close if he figured out what he’d been doing wrong while they were here. The port remained him a bit of Mos Espa, filled with all kinds of people, but it lacked the same kind of long held pain that edged most of the minds there. Anakin was fairly certain quite a few of the people they passed, who eyed his teacher carefully, noting the robes and saber, were criminals, bounty hunters or smugglers. Most of the people though seemed to specialize in starship parts. Almost every shop seemed to advertising them and those that weren’t, were mechanics or droid repair shops. It was an engineer's dream and Anakin had overheard more than one old spacer telling stories as they passed and even more exciting, were those who were clearly racers. It made him want to run off exploring, but he remained close to Obi-Wan and contented himself with listening and looking at everything he could.

When he looked up at his teacher he noticed that Obi-Wan was distracted, focused on something in the crowd. Anakin followed his gaze and saw, slightly surprised, it was a woman. She was beautiful with blonde-brown hair, vaguely humanoid with pointed ears, and small markings under her eyes. She was glowing like a star in the Force. It curled around and inside her in a way Anakin had never seen. The Force _loved_ her Anakin and found he was halfway to love himself. She was _good_ and _kind_ and light in dark places. She was looking up at Obi-Wan and then down at him. She smiled and began making her way to them.

“Master?” Anakin asked, uncertain even as he felt, _he knew_, this woman was trustworthy.

Obi-Wan looked down at him and smiled. “It seems we are to meet a legend, Anakin.”

“Is that what the younglings like yourself are calling us now?” The woman’s voice made something inside Anakin sing and he looked up to find her standing before them serene. She was _young_, or at least looked that way to him. Even younger than Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looked a little abashed but mostly somewhat awed, bowing slightly.

“A legend must be given the proper respect Master Fay,” Obi-Wan said with a respect he usually reserved for the Council. Anakin supposed a woman who shone like a star deserved nothing less.

“It is rare to see a Core Jedi so far from home,” she said, soft and perhaps a little scolding. Though it didn’t feel like it was directed at Obi-Wan. “Mostly, it is Agen or Rael, on the rare occasion that boy can focus.”

Anakin perked up. He had heard of Knight Agen Kolar. He was a Form IV Master and according to what he’d overheard he was famous for causing the Hutts difficulties. Anyone who inconvenienced the Hutts must be worth knowing Anakin had decided immediately. Rael was a name he didn’t recognize, though he felt a flicker of surprise and a familiar sadness from Obi-Wan.

“We go as we are directed,” Obi-Wan said, in his Diplomat Voice. Master Fay did not seem overly impressed by this, but she let this pass in favor of smiling down at Anakin. Her eyes were deep and old as the desert night. Anakin felt a calm pass through him at the sight of the gray gaze.

“And may I have your name youngling?”

Anakin’s face flushed at the attention and he felt oddly shy in the face of a lady of starlight.

“Anankin Skywalker, _Yiaya._”

He definitely felt his face heat at the slip into the respectful term in Huttese. Master Fay was _not_ a Grandmother, but she felt like one. Wise and old and comforting, a guide to those willing to listen.

Obi-Wan inhaled sharply beside him, but Master Fay laughed, high and clear.

“_I am honored,_” Master Fay said with an edge of gentle delight, replying in kind. “I am happy to see my lineage has found you little Skywalker.”

Anakin’s face was burning, but inside he was happy and it felt comfortable, right in a way he didn’t know he needed to be welcomed by a grandmother. Even if it was a Jedi one. He knew enough to recognize that lineage was the closest to family lines the Jedi possessed and wondered if perhaps this was his teacher elder sister. Or perhaps his aunt, the Jedi equivalent, anyway.

“Did you train with Master Qui-Gon as well? Or my grandmaster?” Anakin asked curious and Master Fay laughed again, not mocking, but delighted.

“Not quite,” There was an edge of mischief to her smile. “I _trained _your great-great grandmaster.”

It took Anakin a moment. He felt his eyes widen at the implication and gasped.

“You’re ancient!”

Obi-Wan sighed, but Master Fay laughed and Anakin couldn’t find himself embarrassed by the words at that reaction. Besides it wasn’t a lie. Master Fay must have been _ancient_. Master Yoda was _800_.

“Sephi live long lives and the Force as maintained me.”

“The Force can do that?” Anakin asked. No one had said the Force made people _immortal_.

Master Fay, hesitated but nodded and explained with a quiet patience. “I allow the Force to flow freely through me and guide me to wherever I am needed. It keeps me so I may accomplish this. I am a healer and so long as there are hurts I can heal I will follow it.”

Anakin looked at her again, saw her face beautiful and young, saw the Force shining from her like a beacon, and nodded.

“You’re fairy,” he said, confident and Obi-Wan choked beside him. “They are beautiful and young and travel around helping others without asking for anything.”

Master Fay simply nodded. “My people have been called that before. The Sephi were known for serving others.”

“Master,” Obi-Wan said, cutting in and feeling more flustered than Anakin had earlier. “Have you come here for a reason?”

Master Fay nodded her face becoming grave. “There are things the Council needs to know. I have been waiting here for two days. I believe it may have been you and your Padawan I was waiting for.”

“Children have begun to vanish throughout the Outer Rim and Unknown Region. I am aware the Council cannot intercede in all such cases,” There was that same edge of disapproval from earlier in her voice and Anakin was amazed. It sounded like she _disagreed_ with the Council. “I, and the others, believe that all the children who have vanished have been Force-sensitive.”

Obi-Wan went tense and looked down at Anakin, so quickly he almost missed it. Anakin reacted to the unease without thinking, like he had when his mother had felt the same, and tucked himself close to Obi-Wan’s side.

“There is something here,” Master Fay said, after considering a moment. “I can sense it. I think it would benefit us to work together to look into it further.”

Obi-Wan felt heavy and sharp through their bond. This upset him deeply and Anakin agreed feeling a small surge of anger. Someone was stealing kids. His mind went to Tatooine and seeing the mothers and fathers around him after their children were sold away, to his mother’s fear whenever Watto talked about selling one of them to make up for some loss. His fists clenched and he straightened. They would find out who was doing this and stop them. Master Fay was a legend according to Obi-Wan and she’d trained _Yoda_. Obi-Wan, himself, was the best Jedi, Anakin was firm on that. He’d seen his teacher fight and talk his way out of impossible problems.

And Anakin would help them. He had a lightsaber now, almost, and he was the best in his training classes. He knew he could help.

Obi-Wan apparently didn’t agree.

“Anakin,” he said, voice all sharp and stern. “Head back to the ship.”

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but the look Obi-Wan gave him was the hardest he’d ever seen.

“Anakin, the Council needs to know as soon as possible. I need you to use my codes to contact them. I am trusting you with this while I and Master Fay follow her lead.” Obi-Wan grabbed his shoulders, bending down to meet his gaze. His face was stern, but his eyes were worried. Anakin could feel concern, duty, and blinding love clear in their bond. It made him falter.

“Anakin promise me you will do this and then stay on the ship with Professor Huyang. Wait there until we come back.”

“But-” Anakin said, trying to protest.

“_Anakin_,” It was soft, but firm and Anakin went quiet. “Promise me.”

There was something softly pleading at the edge of Obi-Wan for all his attempt at sternness. A desperate need to keep Anakin safe. It wasn’t _fair_. Anakin knew he could help, but how was he supposed to say no when all he could see was his mother making him promise to stay safe overlapping with Obi-Wan.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said, finally, resigned and he could feel the relief his words caused. “I promise.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said and the desperation eased slightly. “The code is 940-OK-581. Can you say it back to me?”

“940-OK-581.” Anakin said obedient. Obi-Wan gave his shoulders a soft squeeze and smiled.

“Run along now. We’ll back before you know it.”

Master Fay offered him her own quiet smile before leading Obi-Wan away.

For just a moment Anakin considered breaking his promise, considered turning around and following them. But the dual ‘promise me’s rang in his mind and he could feel Obi-Wan at the edge of his mind, soft and worried and _trusting him_. Anakin ran back to the ship, easily following back the way they came.

They caught him at the edge of the docks. A dart of some kind hit his neck with a quick pinprick of pain that was almost immediately followed by his legs losing all feeling. Anakin had lost feeling in his arms before he even hit the ground. He saw the fuzzy image of twining vine symbol on a necklace dangling in front of his face as he was picked up and lost consciousness.

-

Could it be the people Master Fay was looking for? It would be a strange coincidence if he was taken now of all times. Anakin looked around, still a little shaky but determined. Obi-Wan would come for him, he knew that much, but Anakin would not sit around in wait. If these were the people than Anakin would be able to help form the inside. He was a Jedi now. It was his job to help free people.

There was a small sound of air releasing and the door slid open making Anakin jump. He turned to scowl, tensing and ready for anything, but then he saw the woman who came in. She was wearing old worn clothes, dun colored and hanging loosely on her. Her face, once pretty, was worn and lined with a burn on one side that looked deliberate. The other side of her face had a series of numbers or letters printed in a language Anakin didn’t recognize. Her hands were cracked and scared on her palms and perfectly around her wrist with a small scar were he guessed another marking had once been. It would have been removed when she was sold. The only untouched thing about her was her blue-black hair, streaked white and half covered with a scarf. It contrasted nicely with her golden skin tone. Her light brown eyes looked even older and more tired than she did.

When she looked at him the sadness in her eyes sharpened. Her voice, when she spoke, was cracked and rough, like her throat has been rubbed down with sand.

“Come along little one,” she said, gentle as her cracking voice could. “It’s time to join the others.”

Anakin hesitated, before nodding and following her out. He would find out as much as he could and then act. Like Obi-Wan would in his place.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear heaven, Obi-Wan was difficult. I think I finally got him, but this boy is a mess.
> 
> I am tentatively hopeful Jango will be easier. Please.
> 
> Thank you all who commented and kudos. You make my day and help.me keep it up. :)
> 
> Sorry if its a little rough. I'll edit it more throughout the day.

It had begun as a bittersweet day.

"_The crystal is the heart of the blade. The heart is the crystal of the Jedi. The Jedi is the crystal of the Force. The Force is the blade of the heart. All are intertwined: the crystal, the blade, the Jedi. You are one."_ Obi-Wan had repeated the words, ceremonial words from times only Professor Huyang could remember that every Master spoke to their Padawan. Anakin had smiled up at him, glowing bright and fierce as the sun through their bond. Obi-Wan had hugged the boy close, soaking in the joy of the moment and how proud he was of his student. More importantly, he'd opened up their bond to let Anakin feel exactly that as well. The boy had soaked it up eagerly, sharing his own emotions without any hesitation.

Three years in the Temple no one could doubt Anakin's skills or knowledge. He excelled at his classes, the use of the Force coming more intuitively to him than any Jedi recorded including those like Master Yoda and Master Yaddle who were born particularly Force aware. His lightsaber techniques were well above what one would expect for his age. Anakin enjoyed that part of his training more than any. Obi-Wan could feel the bone deep satisfaction and easy joy staying in motion caused his young student. In all physical aspects he excelled.

It was the mental aspects of being a Jedi, the ability to let go of your attachments, opening yourself up to the Force, and internalizing their tenets that Anakin often times, struggled with. Uncertainty made him cling all the tighter to everything around him. From something as simple as his favorite spot to meditate in to the bond between Master and Padawan, Anakin was protective and possessive of what he considered _ his._ He had a deep struggle to face himself and his feelings, preferring to look away from his hurts and fears, even as he clung to them as fiercely as anything else. The other Masters had approached Obi-Wan with concerns at times and he had always defended his Padawan. 

Anakin was a good boy. He was kind-hearted, giving, curious, a fast learner, who was a little reckless but genuine and open. He was eager to please and try to understand what it meant to be a Jedi, looking to Obi-Wan for guidance.

The fault, Obi-Wan knew, lay in his teacher's inability to be a proper Master and instill the values of their Order in his young student. One could not expect the mindset to come easily to a child brought in so late and raised with other customs. It was perhaps selfish of Obi-Wan not to let another Master take Anakin, a more experienced Master, but he needed to trust in Qui-Gon's faith in him and keep the last promise.

Today though Obi-Wan had refused to let those doubts in himself or his own preoccupations on his failings or even the ghosts of the past that hit him so suddenly at the sight of Illum ruin this moment. Anakin had proven with his conduct and determination that he could grow and demonstrate exactly why Qui-Gon had and Obi-Wan did believe in him. 

"Done well you have young Skywalker," Yoda had said, peering at them from where he sat watching and waiting as he did with every Padawan or Initiate come to find their first crystal. "Overcome some of your doubts you did. Good. Very good."

The ancient Master then offered a smile, the same warm smile that Obi-Wan had seen since he was a child in the créche. But there had been something sad in Yoda's eyes that made Obi-Wan certain he was thinking back to other times, of Jedi long passed on to become one with the Force. Or perhaps his most recent student, Obi-Wan's own grandmaster, so recently departed from the Order.

Anakin had not seemed to notice the sadness and, always sensitive to praise, lit up at the words. Obi-Wan had brushed back the boy's hair, golden hued brown and tangling with the growth leaning it to curl, out of his face with a feeling of great tenderness he hadn't expected to feel. Anakin struggled so hard to feel good enough to fit in and please those around him and then grew angry with himself for wanting to. It was a contradiction that Obi-Wan tried to soothe away and explain he need only be himself. Anakin was more than enough always. They were words that Obi-Wan had desperately needed someone to say to him at Anakin's age as he struggled with his own temper and feelings of rejection.

It had been wonderful to see the boy's joy at Yoda's words and Obi-Wan felt protective of that happiness in a way he had never known he could feel for another sentient. 

He had always loved the Jedi, the only family he'd ever known and desired their happiness. He had friends within and without the Order he'd cared for deeply. The closest of which he'd always felt protective of and he had never doubted the love he'd felt for them. He'd had an _ almost,_ once, on Mandalore with Satine. He'd had Qui-Gon and he'd always wanted his Master's approval and they had eventually developed a loving respectful relationship after their bumpy start, but there had always been the edges and disagreements for all their genuine affection. 

With Anakin it was different, heart stopping and terrifying. A love laced with a lingering fear that Obi-Wan would not be enough, but one that grew stronger with every day together and every accomplishment Anakin made filled him with a greater joy than his own. Obi-Wan had learned a new kind of depth of feeling raising a Padawan. True, it was frustrating and sometimes Anakin drove him mad, but he found he dearly cared for Anakin all the same.

He'd been worried about attachment, because he felt so fiercely attached to his Padawan. Quinlan, of all his friends and acquaintances, had been the one who surprised him by understanding perfectly and commiserating. Quinlan more recently apprenticed but with the older Aayla had told him about a similar deep love. It was not quite strictly paternal, Obi-Wan was not Anakin's father and had never had a parent in the most traditional sense to understand what it was to be one enough to claim such a title. Besides, in Obi-Wan's mind, they were much too close in age. Anakin was the center of Obi-Wan's world though and he cared for him and wanted to raise him to find happiness above any sort of destiny attached to his title as Chosen One. Perhaps it hadn’t been that way at first, but Obi-Wan had always been determined that Anakin would never feel the rejection of a Master like he had.

Obi-Wan wondered, in his more quiet moments, if Qui-Gon had ever felt quite so much for Obi-Wan. He was always quick to bury the thought. 

He held that image, Anakin's bright smile, in his heart as he trembled, holding Anakin’s crushed comm in his hand.

_ I failed him, I failed him, Master I failed him. Not Anakin, please no. _ Obi-Wan’s mind spun frantically, clawing where the Bond should be bright and loud as Anakin was.

Behind him he felt Master Fay, brighter in the Force than any he'd met save Anakin, reach out to offer a comforting hand. Obi-Wan shed away from it, curling his shoulders in, struggling to maintain any sort of calm. He was not used to physical comfort. After he'd left the créche with Qui-Gon there had always been a certain distance maintained around the man that had not truly faded even as they grew closer. He could try for Anakin who was so very needy and thrived with positive reinforcement. But Master Fay, for all she was the eldest of his lineage, was a stranger.

One he'd followed and lost his Padawan as a result. And for them to only find a freshly abandoned building.

Obi-Wan grabbed the resentment this thought caused before it could take hold and let it bleed out into the Force, untouched. He could not afford to alienate his ally through misdirected rage—_ Anakin could not afford to be left in the hands of a teacher who’d already failed once, I was the one who left my Padawan alone and unguarded _ —and he knew Master Fay could help— _ I am a failure, Anakin needed someone else, a legend, Qui-Gon would be ashamed _—more familiar with the area than he was.

He reached out desperate and aching to find the Bond again. He nearly sobbed when he felt it, weak and muffled, not gone as he'd initially felt, but subdued. Hidden away.

“We will find him,” Master Fay said, close but giving him his space. She was allowing her Force presence to touch his. It felt unfamiliar but kind in a way that almost hurt. Obi-Wan wanted to reject it, as a false comfort one would give a child, but he sensed the edge to it. A certainty that spoke of more than just confidence, the suggestion of the Force. Tentatively, Obi-Wan allowed the connection reaching for it and when the warmth of it touched him, clinging to it to keep himself sane and steady, drawing from her calm edged with fury.

Obi-Wan reached out taking comfort in the feeling and the Bond that remained—_ not severed, not gone, I haven’t failed not completely _—and steadied himself. He would find Anakin. There was nothing that would stop him from finding his Padawan.

“A port this size would have cameras," he reasoned. "A security force to keep track of the comings and goings to protect their own interests if nothing else."

Obi-Wan's voice strained as he spoke, pulling the artifice of a collected centered Jedi over himself.

“There’s a security office near the docks where they record manifests of ships.” Master Fay said and there was something dangerous in her smile that Obi-Wan appreciated. “I am certain they can be convinced to assist in our search.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan inside him a constant rhythm of—_ haven’t failed yet, have to find him, Anakin _—pounded in time to his heart. His mind focused sharp on the next task, Anakin was gone, Bond muffled and distant, but he wouldn’t stay gone. They’d find him.

Obi-Wan couldn’t stand to contemplate the alternative to it.

-

Obi-Wan had never expected to actually meet the legendary Master Fay, even Qui-Gon, who'd been politely puzzled at Obi-Wan's fascination, had admitted he'd never had the honor. 

She was different than he’d expected. Kind, yes, but with a vicious unexpected edge as she calmly manipulated the minds within the Security Office with the same ease as breathing, twisting them elegantly. It was almost terrifying to feel the edges of her power rewriting the minds around them, the minds of people who smiled and said “How unfortunate” when Obi-Wan had tried to demand the footage. She'd stepped in with a smile and the slightest suggestion. 

The moment they’d been led into the viewing room, Master Fay dismissing the worries of those present with a smile and gentle brush of the Force, he’d thrown himself into reviewing the footage. His heart was in his throat and couldn’t stop his hands shaking as he located the alley and rewound it to the exact heart stopping moment he’d felt Anakin’s presence seem to vanish.

They couldn't see the faces of the attackers. They were hooded, angling their faces away from the cameras viewports. One, broad and vaguely humanoid, lifted Anakin's head up and after a moment picked the boy up. One of the group picked up the dart they'd used to hit Anakin before approaching as yet another grabbed the comm and crushed it beneath their heel. 

Obi-Wan watched it again.

And again.

And again.

Each time was as painful as the last, seeing his Padawan fall, the brief flash of panic visible on his face. Each time brought back the sudden flush of emotions Obi-Wan had felt, making him halt in the middle of the streets. The sudden fear and confusion. The not quite verbalized call for Obi-Wan to come help and save him. And then the horrible cutting off of the connection that had almost made Obi-Wan stop breathing completely.

The sick horror lingered in him.

He watched it again.

And he paused.

The moment the figure bent over Anakin, for just a moment there was something visible, a brief shine. It could be nothing, but Obi-Wan knew better. He could feel it in his bones. The Force was practically screaming at him in a way that it rarely did.

"Can you clear up this image? Focus on that flash right there." Obi-Wan said, turning to one of the techs who blinked at him a little dazed and then frowned at the screen. The soft pink Theelin chewed on their stylus, eyes narrowed. 

"It'll take some time, barely a few seconds of footage. Let me have the terminal," the Theelin said and Obi-Wan relinquished the seat, impatient but trusting his instincts screaming it was important. 

"Did you find something?" Master Fay asked looking thoughtful. 

"Possibly," Obi-Wan said, clenching his shaking hand into a fist and crossing his arms in an effort to steel himself. "I-I have a feeling. There's a flash. It could be interference or the light, but I feel it is important to confirm."

Master Fay nodded not questioning him, which felt odd. Even three years as a Knight it felt odd to be trusted. Especially in the face of such failure.

"I've been examining the footage around the area. The attackers seemed to have approached your Padawan from the abandoned warehouses near the dock, slipping in behind him from above. There was a brief image of one dropping, but none of them entering the buildings. It means they knew how to get in them unseen."

Obi-Wan felt a coldness in his stomach at Master Fay's grave expression. 

"That means either locals or this was planned," Obi-Wan said, numbly.

"Perhaps," Master Fay said. "That would require someone to know you and your Padawan were stopping here."

There was a question in that. Obi-Wan shook his head.

"Only a few Council members knew our destination. And the fuel stop was a surprise."

Master Fay nodded, but her expression was thoughtful.

"And done!" A far too cheerful voice interrupted and Obi-Wan focused back on the tech instantly. On the screen was a close up of the object. Reflecting a bit of light it was an amulet of a twisting vine wrapping around a humanoid bone. Obi-Wan cleared his mind, closing his eyes, centering himself and searching back through his memories to place where he'd seen it before.

"There was a man," Obi-Wan recalled, tracing over the details of the day careful to let nothing go untouched. He opened his eyes to look at Master Fay. "At the port. When we first arrived. He'd bumped into Anakin, but he'd felt sincere when he apologized. I couldn't sense any malicious intent off him."

Master Fay looked at the image and her gray eyes flashed. "Maliciousness requires a certain level of active enjoyment. I believe this was to him, _ just business _."

She was quoting someone and there was a heavy anger coming off her. "That is the symbol of my lead, the pirate crew I believe may be involved in moving the children."

Obi-Wan nodded, light headed. "They must keep someone posted as a look out at the docks and thought taking a Padawan was worth the potential of provoking the Jedi.”

“We should head back to your ship,” Master Fay said. “You need to alert the Council and I need to check on something. I have an idea about how we may find them, if they have already fled.”

Obi-Wan nodded and swallowed hard.

-

When he finally disconnected the call to the Council, Obi-Wan fell into the pilot’s chair, covering his face in his hands as he struggled to breath. There had been no blame. The Council, those who’d been available, had been sympathetic, sorrowful and concerned.

Master Yoda had looked all his centuries at the news. Mace, who so often sighed at Anakin’s antics, had closed his eyes needing to steel himself. Master Ti, who’d lost her own Padawan less than a year previously, had gotten a dangerous almost feral look that only faded into a focused calm when Master Agen had placed a calming hand on her shoulder and asked the Council how long it would take to prepare a ship.

None of them were placing the blame on him like they should. Like he did. And worse beneath it had been the sense of loss. _ Like Anakin was dead._ His Padawan was not _ gone_. Obi-Wan touched their Bond, feeling the edges of it carefully. Anakin was alive.

He would get him back. Obi-Wan took a shaky breath, all mucus and tears. He pressed his palms against his face and breathed again. He wished suddenly, achingly, like a gap in his soul for _ Qui-Gon_. To hear his Master’s wisdom and to have the reassuring presence of the man, that had been ripped away so painfully, at the edge of his mind. One of his hands drifted to the inside of his robe, touching the stone he knew was there. It was warm and smooth. It gave a comforting flicker of Force at his touch. It didn’t change anything. It was a poor substitute, but it let him breath.

He would need to speak to Master Fay about the Council’s orders. To wait for backup in order to pursue them. It made something in him scream and snarl at the thought. His Padawan slipping further and further out of reach with each moment he wasn’t moving after him.

But the Council’s Orders.

He doubted Master Fay would like them any better and wondered what the Sephi would suggest. He had his suspicions, and perhaps not a little hope, her idea might provide an alternate solution.

-

It had actually been Rael who'd told him about the legendary grandmaster of their lineage. 

His Master's brother padawan had been the one to come help with their extraction those last terrible months on Mandalore. Obi-Wan, despite the conflicting feelings and the impressions he'd had of the man, had been so relieved to see a familiar face wearing Jedi robes for all they were careworn. It had felt almost foreign to switch back to Basic after the use of Mando'a had become so essential to their survival. Obi-Wan had spent most of the initial time on the ship twitching, unable to believe they were safe, and at Satine's side ready to cover her flank and she. Even being passed his lightsaber, lost and reclaimed, apparently found in an Outer Rim junk shop Rael had said with a smile, had felt foreign. He didn't like his blaster, taken from a member of Death Watch the same fight he'd lost his lightsaber, but somehow it now fit in his hand easier than the saber.

The feeling had left him even more insecure about his future and place than Satine's soft smiles shared during morning watch and the small skip they caused in his heart did. Jedi fell in love, sometimes to their deterrent, but he hardly felt a Jedi anymore dressed in Satine's _ beskar'gam _ with _ Mando'a _falling from his tongue instinctively and the inability to stop looking for escape routes and planning the best attack strategy.

He'd sat at Satine's side, dazed and not quite able to process what Rael and the rest of their escort were telling them. Even when Satine started crying silently, all he could do was stare numbly at the saber in his lap. He could remember reaching over to take her hand, holding it without a thought to the on-lookers as he had been doing for months. He could remember Satine's fingers, fine and seemingly delicate but strong, crushing his hand. She'd wiped her tears away and took the same meditative breaths they'd practiced together every evening. A Jedi trick in return for all the Mandalorian ones she'd taught him. For the rest of the conversation she'd been steady and determined, only her grip grinding his bones together revealing her emotional upheaval. 

Eventually she'd released him and stood with great dignity, face smudged and hair braided close to her head for practicality, clothes barely more than ill-fitting armor they'd piecemealed as they ran from their last location. But she'd looked every inch a Duchess standing tall and her blue eyes blazing as she'd asked Qui-Gon and the other leaders here among Rael's passengers to come with her as she addressed the people of Mandalore. She would announce a peace that didn't feel real. They'd all followed and for one moment eyes had met, heavy and full of words that would never be spoken now, before she'd steeled herself and led them out of the cabin to go speak.

Obi-Wan had been left breathless and mind unfocused without Satine's presence to center on. He found his eyes drawn back to the lightsaber. He'd clenched his fingers around it and released, adjusting his grip each time and never finding a comfortable position. His stomach had twisted and he hadn't been able to suppress the dismay with his emotions already in turmoil.

"You alright kid?" Rael had asked, voice soft. Obi-Wan had looked up and met the man's gaze. He'd been surprised by what he'd found. Rael had looked calmer, more centered, for all his seeming unchanged, it was like looking at a different man. The grief that had so marred his Force signature was gone, soothed into a carefully worn wisdom that reminded Obi-Wan of his own Master.

Perhaps that's what had compelled him to speak so honestly, despite not knowing the other Master well.

"It doesn't fit," It had been the best Obi-Wan could manage, so dazed and lost. He'd felt Qui-Gon respond to the feeling reaching out to check on him carefully.

Rael had surprised him again, by nodding his face so achingly _ understanding _.

"You've been through a lot kid, it's changed you. Changed you so much that the crystal that chose you feels it. The you who built that lightsaber is not the same you who fought in this war. When I came back from Pijal, after everything I felt the same. My lightsaber didn't fit in my hand, being a Jedi felt like it didn't fit," Rael confessed it so calmly, the emotions clear on his face but not consuming him. "I had to start from the bottom, relearn myself and what it meant to be a Jedi. You haven't fallen quite so far. You may need to rebuild it, but you'll learn how to make it fit."

Obi-Wan hadn't been able to hold back the unease, additions of doubts that had haunted him for years, that this was just proof that he wasn't meant to be a Jedi. The unwanted Padawan, difficult and too emotional.

"What if I can't? What if I never feel comfortable holding one again?"

It had been as if all his doubts, his worries, the conflict of _ Satine _ and _ duty _, a new refrain in a long struggle of being torn from the Order. Surely someone with so much doubt, who had twice been gone from the Order, could not be a knight. Someone who could not imagine holding the very symbol of what it meant to be a Jedi.

"Then you will be a Jedi who doesn't use a saber. Wouldn't be the first time. Wouldn't even be the first in out lineage."

Rael had laughed, not meanly, at Obi-Wan's stunned expression and his eyes had sparkled with mischief.

"Master Fay is the, well, founding mother of our lineage, you could say The most powerful Jedi alive and never once, since she was a Padawan herself, has she used a lightsaber. Jedi aren't warriors, we are peacekeepers, diplomats, _ healers _. You showed that on Pijal. Remember that."

Obi-Wan had been stunned. "But I thought she was just a legend?"

Rael had laughed again, this time at himself. "Something she'd surely find amusing. I can assure you, from personally experiencing her temper, she is real. The Master disagrees with the Council's connection to the Senate and follows the Force in the purest sense, not the Senators. I don’t think she’s been in the Core for three hundred years."

Rael had looked over Obi-Wan, torn and confused, and the man’s face had gone gentle, kind.

"She told me something you should know. 'A lightsaber does not make a Jedi. The heart of the Jedi that is what defines them.'" Rael had said the last part imitating a serene feminine voice that had made Obi-Wan want to laugh at the contrast with his normal Ringo Vindan accent.

"You Obi-Wan have a good heart and a good Master to help you learn how to wield it."

Obi-Wan had accepted the words for the comfort they were calming enough he felt Qui-Gon's concerned presence leave. Afterwards, once they were back at the Temple on Coruscant he'd spent much of his time researching the legendary Master. It had helped him deal with the surreal nature of adapting back to the normal day-to-day of the Jedi once more.

-

Master Fay was not in any of the rest areas, instead she was inside the ship’s interior with part of it undone and looking grimly at the screen of a datapad she had connected to it. Professor Huyang was with her, hanging over the gape in the grated flooring to peer down, and sounded as furious as any droid could. Obi-Wan had a bad feeling as he approached, the ice from early digging into his already shaky control.

“-this can’t be. Not for a thousand years has this ship ever been compromised.”

“Never does not mean forever Professor,” Master Fay interrupted, voice gentle, but expression anything but from where her face just peeked over. “Nico’s calculations have confirmed what I suspected and Jon’s reports.”

The droid said something in binary that made Master Fay blink.

“Excuse me, Master Fay, I need to go begin securing this breach. I cannot allow it to exist a moment longer.”

Master Fay nodded. “I need to tell Obi-Wan.”

“Yes,” Professor Huyang said and Obi-Wan could see the droid’s shoulders fall and hear the sorrow in his voice. “A mistake that has cost the Young Knight and his Padawan more than either should have to pay.”

The droid prepared to leave at that, but Master Fay stopped him.

“Huyang,” The droid turned to her.

“Don’t report this until we have found the culprit.”

Professor Huyang huffed, his insides audibly spinning, and shook his head. “Honestly, I am well old enough to know better myself, Master Fay. Do not forget there is still one being in this Order with more years than you.”

Master Fay made a sound, not a laughter, it wasn’t warm enough and lacked real amusement, but similar. “My apologies, old friend.”

“I shall accept them. Good day.”

“Good day,” she said and after she watched the droid walk away turned to look at Obi-Wan directly.

He felt something hot and hard in his stomach. An anger he’d avoided, but was bubbling inside him, a hissing slow thing. It was edged with the same Darkness he’d felt when he struck down Maul. He understood the implications of the words. He understood what Master Fay’s thoughtfulness had meant.

“You think it was planned after all,” Obi-Wan said as she pulled herself up through the grate and turned to him. “You think a _ Jedi _ helped.”

She didn’t deny it, confirming his worst fears by nodding. “Only a Jedi knows of Illum and of the Professor’s ship. Something about the abduction wasn’t right. It felt too deliberate. I followed the feeling and the ship’s records confirmed. This ship is always prepared with enough fuel both ways. There was a trap in the coding making it read falsely and was sending your coordinates to someone. It wasn’t tagged as suspicious because a Jedi’s codes were used to access it. I cannot tell whose. That was never my speciality.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t breathe. All he could feel was that dark sinking anger. Black dots edged across his vision as he tried to breath. _ A Jedi. A Jedi. _ The refrain wouldn’t stop repeating itself along with. _ Anakin. Taken. A rogue Jedi took Anakin. _His fingers wrapped tightly around the stone. Qui-Gon’s stone. It didn’t help. He couldn’t feel the Force. It slipped away as soon as he touched it. The anger rose up, but Obi-Wan shed away from the Darkness in it as well. The air wouldn’t come.

There were small hands on his face. His ears were ringing. His lungs hurt.

A sharp starburst exploded behind his eyes and Obi-Wan breathed in deeply. He blinked, eyes blurred slightly and he found Master Fay looking into his eyes. Her Force presence was smothering him, but he could breathe and tentatively felt the edge of the Force touching him again.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a few moments, lowering his gaze. Master Fay made a noise that he couldn’t quite interpret the meaning of, but flinched from as if it was a criticism. To let himself be so impaired with Anakin gone was-

“It’s expected,” Master Fay said releasing his face, but allowing her presence to linger with a long soothing ripple of calm. His shoulders relaxed despite himself. “You have been holding in a lot of emotion. Just breathe for a moment and we can continue. You need to process it so we can help your Padawan.”

Obi-Wan nodded, reluctant to agree, but unable to argue especially with the almost healing feel of the Force he was wrapped in. He breathed, shakily and closed his eyes, allowing his heart to clench and looking at his anger, facing the potential of a personal betrayal, facing what that might mean and weighing it against Anakin’s safety and letting it go.

He breathed again.

He opened his eyes inhaling once, deeply, and letting it out.

“You said you had a lead on the pirates,” Obi-Wan said, calm and wiping his face once more.

Master Fay nodded. “A potential way to get into their vessel and investigate further. Jon believes they are working for someone else. They are too small and are suddenly making much bolder moves that should be beyond them. But,” She looked at Obi-Wan solemnly. “We need to continue investigating this source as well. There’s a slicer who may be able to help, but we’d need to follow where the lead took us.”

“We’ll need to split up.” Obi-Wan said firmly. Master Fay nodded.

“The Council wants us to wait for a backup.”

Master Fay met his gaze. “Both of these may be time sensitive.”

She didn’t need to say the consequences of letting them go cold. Obi-Wan felt simultaneously heavy and freed as he made the decision, calculating the costs with ease.

“Professor Huyang can hold the ship and direct our backup where they are needed. Tell me the plan and we can decide who does what.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! A little earlier than scheduled because Chapter 2 took so long. Finally Jango! And this should finish up the into chapters.

It was Boba that made the decision for Jango, not long after the boy’s third birthday.

Jango had been reciting his Litany every night for years. It always began with his father. The ending was the only thing that changed. Nowadays he ended on Roz. He didn’t have a shrine like his father had, the more religious of his natural parents. Or a prayer mat as Jaster had used when he taught it to Jango, who’d never paid much mind to his natural father’s religious leanings more inclined to his mother’s more agnostic feelings. Jaster had taught him it though, when Jango had felt a pang of regret at never learning. He’d always been happy to teach Jango.

Jango made due. Mandalorians were practical people and he did not need objects to remember those he’d lost. Those who’d carved out pieces of him. Instead it became a habit to recite it beside Boba's bed at night or, when he was an infant, as he rocked the baby to sleep.

It helped to have such a clear symbol of a future. The reminder that Jango _did_ have something else to live for, when he recited the names. Besides it was a good way to familiarize Boba with Mando’a. The years had seemed to burn away the bed time stories his mother had once told him and his sister. They’d burned away much of the good. He could admit that. This was the best he could offer his son beside bounty hunting stories.

Lingering on those thoughts did him little good. So, he allowed himself to remember only when he recited the Litany by his son’s side.

Boba was a clever child. Intelligent and quick to pick things up in a way that sometimes startled even Jango. He’d began to realize that Basic and Mando’a were different languages and there were multiple words for the same items in recent months and had been fascinated by it. Boba now refused to accept any new word or explanation unless Jango gave it in both languages and the boy happily repeated it back. Jango was somewhat amazed by the progress his son had made. Even Nala Se, who watched Boba carefully as a marker for the clones, had noted that it was above normal milestones for a human child of Boba’s age. It had made him worried that it meant they had not properly removed the rapid aging they had been developing. Nala Se had been offended at the mere suggestion of failure on their part.

Tests had, thankfully, proven him wrong though.

Boba was genetically identical to how Jango would have been at that age. No enhancements.

Boba was different though, Jango was sure. A different person for all he was a clone. Better, Jango was firm and sometimes found relief in that with the fear of his son becoming old before his time assuaged. For every little difference some tension relaxed in him. Boba would be his own man not trapped by his _buir_’s failures.

It really shouldn’t have surprised him when Boba started to focus so intently when he spoke the Litany. Or that the boy had, halfway through, began to repeat the words back to him.

Still Jango froze as his son stumbled through those familiar words.

“_Ni su’cuwi, gaw qui’adwic, ni pawdaywi, gaw sawasuum_,” Boba echoed at him happily and then scowled, lips pouting up and a small wrinkle appearing on his forehead, knowing he’d mispronounced some of the sounds in his rush to copy. His son hated his difficulty with certain bits of language, which normally Jango found adorable. A word he’d rarely applied to anything before his child.

Now though Jango’s throat was burning and he couldn’t talk.

Boba frowned up at him, seeming to sense something off and not sure what. He looked up at his father with big brown eyes and his face scrunched up in his own mirroring distress. He reached up his arms to Jango, who responded automatically pulling the boy out of his bed and tucking him securely in Jango’s lap. Boba sniffled wetly, giving a small whine, and Jango cuddled Boba close, hand soothing his back.

“_Buir_?” the little boy said, bottom lip trembling and looking up at Jango with wet eyes.

“Sh, _ad’ika_, it’s alright,” Jango murmured, rubbing Boba’s back. It was _hard_ to be gentle after so long, but Jango would try for Boba. It hurt more to see the boy distressed than to strip himself down enough to be as vulnerable as his son needed him to be.

Jango took a deep breath, burying his nose in his son’s dark curling hair inhaling the clean scent of Boba’s shampoo and focusing on the small heartbeat pulled so close to his chest. He always knew one day he would need to talk about what had happened. Not in details, but enough so Boba could know where he came from. With all things that involved Boba this one just came a little earlier than expected. Children, Jango was finding, cared very little for the expectations of their parents.

Boba calmed as Jango did, thankfully not falling into a crying fit that could last for hours as he may have even four months ago. Jango’s heart clenched at that. So fast, Boba was growing so fast.

“That was very good,” Jango assured him, carding fingers through his curls this time. “That was a good Litany.”

Boba leaned back and smiled, recognizing the compliment if not necessarily the full context. Then the little boy said, voice still shaky, but words carefully pronounced to avoid the slurring he slipped into with Mando’a.

“Basic _buir_. Say basic.”

The ‘s’ still sounded slightly like ‘th’, but it was a definite improvement. Jango took a deep breath, focusing on Boba and began the Litany in Basic.

“I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.”

Boba clumsily copied, little eyebrows wrinkled as he concentrated over the unfamiliar words. He stumbled a bit, leaving out some as he hadn’t in the Mando’a recitation he’d been hearing since he was born.

“Good job,” Jango said when Boba looked at him expectantly. Boba beamed. “That’s special though. I only say it in Mando’a. It’s Mando’a only.”

Jango wasn’t sure if Boba could understand the concept quite yet. That the words were ceremonial. They were for Mandalorians in their language. But Boba surprised him seeming to make the connection despite the complexity of the thought.

“Mando’a only?” the boy asked for clarification, looking into Jango’s eyes with identical brown ones, Kara Fett's eyes, curious and strangely solemn for the normally cheerful child.

“Mando’a only,” Jango repeated, firm and equally solemn. Boba frowned, looking over his father’s face before nodding and curling up close. The little boy then patted Jango’s shoulder pointedly.

“Rest,” he demanded and Jango huffed in amusement and settled down closing his eyes as he recited the names carefully. He said them slower than he normally would have, a lump in his throat as Boba whispered them after his father. He wanted to insure his son heard them all individually. Boba was dozing by the end, but stubbornly refused to sleep until the very last one was spoken.

Jango closed his eyes holding Boba close as the little boy slept and just breathed.

-

After that Boba had gotten more curious about the Litany and Jango had started to include stories, to the boy’s delight. He loved the stories about each name. Now when they said them, always together, Boba would say the names he remembered more carefully and with a quiet delight. It had hurt at first, but as time passed it made things easier. In a way. Jango didn’t feel his heart catch on each name so much after telling Boba about them.

There were four names that Jango hadn’t addressed yet and Boba, his brilliant _Bob’ika_, picked up on it. In particularly he started to notice that Nala Se and the others occasionally called him Mr. Fett. Jango had told them not to and now he suspected they only did it when they were annoyed with him. A polite bit of pettiness. In return Jango, always the picture of manners, or the Mandalorian equivalent, as was expected with a client, would conveniently forget to say ‘Dr.’ when addressing them and enjoy the way their nostrils flared in irritation.

Jango had been reading about child development. Nala Se supplied him with books on it since Boba was born and the first of the Alphas decanted to assist with his ‘regime’ in another part of their passive-aggressive war. On occasion though, when he had some doubt about Boba’s development or desperately wished he had his parents or Jaster there for advice he’d look through them. Jango may not have much use for fiction, but research and guides were useful and had even helped him prepping for bounties before. Learning about the real world was practical and even with his parents memories and the Codex and culture Jaster had given him to guide him the books were _helpful_. Not that he’d ever tell Nala Se that.

He therefore knew that when Boba started pointing to himself and Jango and saying Fett that the boy’s ability to pick up the name in reference to both of them was impressive. When he made the connection to the three unexplained names in the Litany it was even more so. Jango had explained, in the best way he could, but Boba still looked confused at the idea of ‘_buir’s buir_’ and even more at the concept of a sister.

Jango wished, painfully, that he had a holo to show his son. To explain who these people were and what they meant.

Jaster was easier in a way. Boba understood the concept of teacher. He’d seen the others instructing the clones during their walks through the facility. He also recognized what _buir _was. The combination of the two was something the boy accepted even if he didn’t fully understand.

It left Jango thoughtful, thinking of Concord Dawn, of the first home he’d ever had in a way he hadn’t in years. Jango had nothing of the Fetts to pass down to his son. Nothing but memories and a name, which had their own value. But Jango wanted more for Boba, and perhaps a bit for himself. He would pass down the _beskar’gam_ that Jaster had helped him forge, one day, but he wanted Boba to have something from all of his grandparents. He didn’t want them to be forgotten. Even a memory for Boba alone would be enough if nothing physical could be passed on.

Looking over his clones with the knowledge in a few years his face and identity would be all over the galaxy once more, Jango decided it was time to go home if only for a brief time.

-

Boba was thrilled when he realized that Jango was taking him when he left this time. The little boy was energetic at the best of times, the knowledge he was going out seemed to only energize him further. It took both MU-12 and Jango’s best efforts to keep it contained and it still kept the little boy up all night before they left leaving him grumpy and sleepy the next morning. MU-12 clucked over the whiny little boy as Jango prepared _Slave I_.

The nurse droid has been another part of Nala Se and his not quite war. Retaliation for using her as part of the Alphas' training as a 'high value target' for a demonstration. MU-12 hadn’t appreciated being co-opted to be support for Jango’s jobs, claiming it was just a nurse droid, but was turning out to be useful enough in that area. It had been horrified at the addition of fighting packs to its program and was still prone to very loudly lecturing Jango about children and exposure to violence. Jango would have scrapped it, but MU-12 had proven to be a worthwhile investment when it came to Boba who he did need someone to watch while he ran jobs.

Boba was terribly fond of the droid who doted on him, made ‘funny sounds’ that left the boy giggling, and had known all the best ways to get a fussy Boba to eat and settle down during his terrible twos. Jango found he would tolerate a lot for his son’s smile.

Jango finished setting the jump coordinates and went to check on them to find MU-12 waiting outside the cockpit.

“Master Jango!” the droid said in its usual crackling voice. “While I do approve of taking Master Boba out on an outing, my databank indicates exposure to new stimulus would be deeply beneficial for a child as high functioning as the Young Master, I simply must protest not being better informed of our destination! I cannot plan appropriate activities for Master Boba’s engagement if I am unable to properly research our intended destination. Children need structure Master Jango and I must adjust Master Boba’s schedule accordingly. We are already working at a sleep deficit and despite my best actions to prevent it, Master Boba has been sat down for a nap that will no doubt completely ruin any chance for his usual mid-afternoon-”

“Where’s my son?” Jango interrupted forcing down the long nursed urge to eject the droid into space.

MU-12 straightened and instantly recited, “Master Boba has been laid down in the sleeping quarters, I have used yours as I found no appropriate location has been set aside for a child. Which is another matter we must address. This ship is an absolute nightmare Master Jango! No child locks or safety mechanisms. My servers nearly fried themselves at the thought of bring Master Boba--Master Jango, where are you going? Please we really do need to-”

Jango had started walking the moment he’d had his answer and MU-12 followed stubbornly continuing its rant against _Slave I_’s ‘appropriateness’ for a child. Jango carefully drowned it out allowing the noise to become just that, turning back to the droid only when they made it to the small quarters he kept on the ship. MU-12 cut itself off mid-sentence at Jango’s sudden attention.

“Go prepare lunch. We’ll be walking outside and spend most of the day in fields. Prepare accordingly.” Jango ordered. He heard MU-12’s gears turn excitedly in a familiar whine and the droids hands started to rapidly wave in front of it.

“Oh, a picnic that does sound quite lovely. And a bit of nature will do well. Kamino is so dreadfully wet and dreary. Sun is important for humans to absorb and Master Boba will definitely benefit-”

“Do not disturb us unless there is a malfunction with the ship,” Jango snapped before the droid could build up too much traction.

“Quite,” MU-12 said, obedient and instantly quieting. For the moment.

Jango closed the door before the droid could start talking again. His eyes went to the bed attached to the wall, not a very large one but good enough for Jango to sleep during jobs. Boba was sprawled across it. He'd already thrown his blanket off, mouth open and arms and legs spread out. Jango smiled at the sight and felt his own exhaustion from a mostly sleepless night hitting him. It would take at least three hours to reach Concord Dawn, plenty of time for rest.

Jango dimmed the lights and set an alarm. He gently moved Boba over, the little boy turning easily and curled up behind him. The moment Jango did, Boba rolled towards the heat and nestled into his father. Jango smiled and allowed himself to relax for the first moment since he’d made the decision to return home.

-

Jango didn’t wear his armor as they walked to the Fett homestead. It would stand out more than he would here. He doubted there was anyone left that remembered Kara and Haadan Fett or that they’d noticed some stranger’s resemblance to them. He was by no means unarmed as they left, but he wanted this trip to go well. A quiet memory for Boba to look back on when he was older. Not a time for fighting. It made him feel vulnerable, _naked_, but he gritted his teeth and dealt with it.

He’d landed _Slave I_ at an outcropping that looked identical to his memories from childhood. Jango had been surprised to find it had lasted through the war. He had flown in from the opposite side of the farm, not wanting any neighbors, if any had remained, to see an approaching ship.

He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected to see, but the fields overgrown with _saviin_ , _Mand’sarad_, and _Tracy’sarad_ with all sorts of undergrowth was not it. It made the fields flat and empty a long stretch of green and browns with the purple, yellow, and red flowers mixed in. At the very center he could see the house, seemingly unchanged despite everything.

Boba, as he always did, prevented Jango from going too deeply into the memories the sight evoked. The little boy, now firmly awake, squealed at the sight and started demanding to be put down.

“Down, down MU! I run now. I see. I see now!” Boba insisted, wiggling and looking down at the field wide-eyed and practically vibrating with the desire to run.

“Master Boba, I must protest-” the droid began, but Jango stopped him.

“Let him down MU-12,” Jango ordered and Boba echoed him.

“Master Jango!” the droid sounded scandalized even as it bent down to let Boba go. Boba stood for a moment stretching and looking over the wide space before him considering. He looked up at Jango, slightly uncertain now that he’d gotten his way, but seeing his father smile straightened up and ran after a butterfly with a happy noise.

“Master Boba!” MU-12 said again, voice processor cracking into static as it went high. It turned back to Jango clearly torn between running after its charge and continuing the debate. It gave Jango as disapproving a look as a droid could manage without any truly prominent facial features.

“You cannot genuinely want me to allow the Young Master to run around this-this wasteland!”

Jango stared the droid down, but kept note of how far Boba had gotten. “Let him explore, but keep close. This is Fett land. He should play in it.”

Jango looked over the house, feeling heavy but not as heavy as he used to. “I’ll be in the house. When the sun starts reaching the middle of the sky join me there. It’s best to eat lunch during the hot hours.”

“Master Jango!” MU-12 protested. Jango ignored him, stopping only to ruffle Boba’s hair. The little boy paused long enough to allow the affection, giving his father’s leg a quick tight hug, before giggling and continuing his exploration.

Jango smiled at that and watched fondly as the distressed droid followed after the laughing child. Jango’s son running through the same fields Jango and Arla had run through at his age.

-

Once he got closer Jango was able to see that the house was not the untouched illusion it appeared at the distance. There was rust along the edges from neglect, a thick coating of dust and the heavy taste of it clung to his tongue as he went inside. The power cells had long died and the only light was from the pollen and dust coated windows and the parts of the roof that had collapsed near the back of the house. From the inside he could see how it had collapsed and noted it looked suspiciously like old fashioned mortar fire. The area hadn’t been completely untouched by the war it seemed.

Moving through the house he could see that scavengers had certainly picked through it.

The cupboards had been thrown open and the cooling unit was long emptied. The tool box gone from where it had always rested by the door. The harvester that had come with the house finicky and always breaking down necessitated it was always in reach. The couches had been stripped of their linens and the walls of any metal ornaments or decorations that could have been used for the war. The family holos and their small collections of books, including his mother's flimsi cookbook, handwritten and passed down form her mother’s mother’s father’s mother was gone.

Strangely though other parts appeared untouched, frozen in the moment his family had died. The key to the blaster cabinet hung in the lock, an old fashioned mechanism his mother had insisted was safer and less ‘fiddly’ than datalocks. His bed was left unmade from having woken up early to go explore that morning. His mother’s carving knife rested beside a half-finished image of some kind of flying creature, only the edges of its wings visible. The small shrine his father used still had the door left cracked open and inside the candles had long blown out but rested there.

It felt like he was walking through a broken reflection, or perhaps the corpse of all those memories, gutted and violently murdered as his first family had been.

It was strange that there was no trace of someone else moving in afterwards. It had been the Fetts’ home since before Jango had been born. Since his father had accepted the Journeyman Protector position and his parents made the choice to leave their clans to settle on Concord Dawn away from the center of the war. To raise their children far from the ruins of Mandalore. The house and land itself though was for the Journeyman Protector and whoever had succeeded his father should have taken it. As his family had after Jaster had been arrested.

Jango ran his hand over the edge of the opening to the kitchen. His fingers came away gray with dust, but he continued rubbing until he could make out the small notches that remained even now, marking his and Arla’s growth every Harvest Day. He ran the soft pad of his fingers along it carefully, feeling out the patterns of their growth and ignoring how it sent more dust dancing through the air, burning his nostrils and eyes. He found Arla’s last mark, right before her fourteenth birthday. It stopped right at Jango’s shoulder. Their mother had joked Arla wouldn’t get much higher and his sister had looked at Jango and the three inches he’d rapidly grown in disgust and said “as long as I’m taller than _vod__’ika_!”.

Jango smiled at the remembered squabble that had broken out at the remark, straining to hear Boba’s laughing in the distance.

He continued along and stopped at the markers for his mother and father that he could vaguely remember he and Arla demanded when they were seven and ten respectively. They’d wanted clear goals to work to, though their parents had teased them about how exactly they expected to effect their own growth. That summer had been spent attempting to stretch themselves or drink strange mixes as they’d come up with odder and odder ideas of how to _encourage _their growth.

Jango Fett was almost lost in the memory as his finger brushed against the next mark, his father’s mark.

He touched it slowly and then took a step forward, leaning his head down to find he had surpassed the mark by a few standard inches. Jango closed his eyes, throat tight, and focused again on the sound of Boba’s voice, muffled but happy as he chatted with MU-12. Jango let out a breathe and leaned the rest of the way touching his forehead to the mark.

“_Ni su'cuyi_,” Jango said, voice coming out rough and raw, eyes clenched tight as he allowed himself to remember as he listened to Boba play in the fields. “_Gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum: Haadan Fett, Kara Fett, Arla Fett._”

He took a deep breath that shuddered into his lungs like shrapnel.

“There’s so much to tell you,” he said, slow and careful. “I have an _ad’ika_. You all would have loved him. Arla would have had someone to tell her stories to. He’s more patient than I ever was, even young as he is. He might have even put up with that ‘feeling the wood’s heart’ nonsense you would talk about Mama. He’s kinder than me too. I think you’d like that Dad. You always had a soft heart beneath that grumble.”

Each word was a bleeding wound that ached, but as he continued it became easier. Telling them, ghosts long gone. A part of Manda now, his father and Jaster would have said. But he kept speaking to them. Needed to tell them about Boba. The best part of the world, worth more than any credit.

-

When he finished, his throat was raw and he let his head rest against the frame for a long time that felt unreal. He felt emptied, as gutted as the home, but better somehow. Like how a wound ached once the infection had been cleared.

“_Ret'urcye mhi_,” he said, whispered to them.

Jango leaned back from the frame.

He couldn’t hear Boba from the fields.

He couldn’t hear the wind as it whistled through the wild flowers that had overtaken it.

He looked at his wrist and saw the red light on his wrist comm that connected him to MU-12 was off.

He shifted his stance apart, one leg slightly back, breathing in the heavy scent of the house. He could taste the freshly disturbed dust and see the mites swirling through the air.

Jango’s hand rested on his pocket, two fingers slipping inside to feel the cool touch of the handle there. His mind was clear and sharp, focused on every movement and sound that echoed through the house. He felt the dust settle onto his skin like a fine coating.

The rage was spreading through his veins like a slow toxin flushing his skin and making his mouth fill with a phantom copper taste.

Jango was already ducking as he heard a soft intake of breath and felt the heat of the blaster shot pass over his head. He let his face go blank, a mask to replace his helmet as he dropped to one knee, below the guarded plating, his hand slipping out of his pocket and turning on the vibroblade in one smooth move as he shoved it up under the golden armor covered in peeling white and black paint.

Jango barely paid attention to the scream the movement caused as he pulled the blade free using his other hand to snap the wrist holding the blaster. He pulled the body close, burying the blade in the gap between the pauldrons and the helmet. Something warm and wet hit his face and the body gurgled. He released the wrist moving up in one quick motion as he jerked the dying man forward by the collar and pulled the body with him. He used the body as a shield for two more blaster bolts that fired.

He noted the directions they came from.

He braced one foot against the frame and left the blade in the neck, grabbing the humanoid’s belt lifting the body and pushing off simultaneously. He tossed the body, pleased to hear an impact and curse, and dropped. He grabbed the discarded blaster and rolled forward, behind the couch.

He reached up and aimed the direction the last bolt came from. There was another curse, in Huttese and the sizzling sound of a clean hit. He kept the motion going coming up from the other side and getting a clear view at the armored humanoid who was clinging to a heavily bleeding shoulder.

Not the blaster arm, Jango noticed, allowing his weight to move him further, hitting the ground completely as a bolt clumsily shot over him and bringing up both arms to shoot again. This one hit truer, striking beneath the visor and the body dropped.

Jango pushed himself up and kicked the blaster away from the grasping hand of the third body pinned beneath the still gasping one. Jango fired two shoots. One to the head of the still shaking dead man and the other to the stomach of the pinned one. For good measure he fired two more, one to each shoulder.

His mind was a clear haze as he picked up the second blaster he’d kicked away and saw something reflective out of the corner of his eye. He aimed before he turned and shot. The bolt hit, sending the body crashing down the hallway, broken and unmoving.

Jango stepped through the front door and the thin barely shimmering haze and was hit with the sounds of blasters and breaking bones. He saw a body sailing through the air and land beside him. Jango fired once, right below the visor and entered the field.

MU-12 was surrounded and its alarms were blaring.

Jango’s ears were ringing as he saw two well placed bolts sever the head of the droid and then his center server. His arms dropped, releasing the two mercenaries he’d had by the throats.

Boba wasn’t here.

Jango did MU-12 the courtesy of killing them first and lost himself to the feeling of rage and the taste of blood in his mouth.

-

He had dragged the bodies to the living room after he finished with them and taken MU-12’d remains back to _Slave I._ There was a track of bent flowers that showed a speeder’s tracks that lead to a freshly left site. The scanners hadn’t picked up on any ship nearby, which left him forced to use a slower method of tracking.

Jango went back to the house, noting the sun was high in the sky and the lunch MU-12 had packed was scattered across the porch. He focused on the small devices still blinking beside the doors. Silencers, not common and tricky to make. The only reason they weren’t more common is the ones who designed them kept a self-destruct inside each one. He picked up the small device, no bigger than an olive and went inside noting the pulses were getting closer together. The moment he moved it the silent barrier broke.

He stepped over the crushed sandwiches and into the relative cool of the shadowed house, walking through the clear paths of light from the few light sources.

The one he’d left bleeding had woken back up by this point and Jango could hear them breathing heavily, quick and borderline hysterical between pained moans. Gut shoots weren't pretty. Jango ignored them for now.

He flipped over the bodies noting the familiar designs painted on the armor. He removed one of the helmets to find the broken head of a human man. He went through each body checking them for equipment and information. Each carried weapons and short distance comms linked to each other. One he noticed had foaming saliva in his mouth that meant he’d known what to expect when he wasn’t met with a kill shot.

Finally Jango turned to the last member, he crouched beside the body and removed the helmet. The face was young, human and spaceship pale, with oily stringy hair and their face tattooed with a black skull outline. They'd been crying. Jango’s face didn’t falter. He reached over, ignoring the flinch and the speed up of the breath and pulled the blade from the now long dead man on top of them.

He rolled the body off and away moving himself to be right in front. He kept carefully eye contact with each slow move he made, vibroblade balanced carefully in his palm.

“You’re going to tell me where my son is,” Jango told him calmly.

They swallowed, throat popping, and pupils wide. Their lips shook as they spoke with an attempt at stubbornness.

“I won’t,” he said.

Jango looked him in the eye.

“You are going to die.” He flinched and Jango continued uncaring. “How depends on how quickly you tell me where my son is.”

The young man trembled and said once, foolishly. “No.”

Jango sighed.

He only said no once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum / I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal - This is the daily rememberance of the departed. I have been calling it the Litany which is from the fantastic fic "Jate'kara" by pallorsomnium
> 
> *Roz is short for Rozatta. She is a Toydarian friend of Jango's from the Bounty Hunter game.
> 
> *buir / mother or father or parent
> 
> *ad'ika / little one, affectionate name
> 
> *Bob'ika / is like the previous endearment a softening of Boba like calling someone named Robert, Bobby
> 
> *beskar’gam / Mandalorian armor
> 
> *Kara and Haadan / Fan name for Jango's parents. Kara is from the word for "star". Haadan is from the word for "truth".
> 
> *MU-12 the nurse droid from the Age of the Republic comics. 
> 
> *saviin , Mand’sarad, and Tracy’sarad / "violets", "Manda's Flowers" and "Fire Blooms" flowers I made up 
> 
> *flimsi / paper
> 
> *vod'ika / little brother
> 
> *Manda / Mandalorian afterlife
> 
> *Ret'urcye mhi / Goodbye lit. "Maybe we'll meet again."

**Author's Note:**

> [ My Tumblr ](https://amillionstarsandyouchoosethisone.tumblr.com/) if anyone wants to come scream.


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